


End Games

by greekowl87



Series: Tumblr Prompts [19]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Dreams, F/M, MSR, Post-Episode: s06e21 Field Trip, prompt, tripping on mushrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-20 13:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14895692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greekowl87/pseuds/greekowl87
Summary: Mulder and Scully after still dealing with the after-effects of shared dreams after almost being eaten by the giant mushroom.





	End Games

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts were: "Bend over.” / “Behave.” / “Good girl.”

Due to her small size, Scully sometimes felt like she easily went unnoticed but then there was her fiery red hair that could have easily made her stand out but neither one of these seemed to factor in at this moment. She stood in the back room of their basement office on the stool by the counter and sink. The lights were all off except the desk light at Mulder’s desk. Her partner sat hunched over, a yellow wooden pencil, scribbling away at some case file. She smiled softly and was about to say something to announce her presence but instead, the office door swung open heavily and the tall and overly bosomed-should-have-been-a-porn-star-not-very-special agent Diana Fowley came through carrying two cups of coffee.

“The report almost done, Fox?” Diana asked silkily.

Scully could feel her skin crawl and her blood turn to a slow, smoldering fire in anger. To her utter surprise, Mulder looked up with a smile. “Almost.”

Mulder was smiling at her differently and his eyes took on a look she had only seen a few times with her. She frowned and tried to speak but she found her voice stolen. Mulder pushed the files away and stood up from behind the desk. “Lock the door, Diana,” he ordered.

That tone of voice made her shuddered and stomach turn, and not in a good way. Diana cupped his cheek seductively, batting those damn eyelashes of hers. She shifted, unable to slide off the stool or be able to make a commotion. She wanted to get his attention. Scully watched in horror as Diana shut the door and locked it. She took off her suit jacket and Mulder licked his lips. “Good girl,” he murmured. She stood on the other side of the desk, challenging him.

Fowley stood in her spot. Scully’s spot. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the edges of the stool, still unable to move, as her anger began to grow. “Behave, Fox.”

“You know better than to question me.” Mulder stalked slowly around the desk. “Bend over, Agent Fowley…”

Scully did not want to watch this anymore. She could not watch it anymore. She turned her head violently and felt hot tears come to her eyes. This was a dream. This was a nightmare.”

“It’s a such a good thing that Agent Scully took the transfer to Salt Lake City.”

“Agent who?” Mulder laughed darkly. He forced her roughly over instead. “Have you disobeyed the senior agent, Agent Fowley?”

“I have…”

Scully was going to be sick. She wasn’t…she could not bear witness to this. The bile rose up in her throat and she felt her gag reflex trying to kick in. The horror of all the wrongness of the situation combined with the despondent rejection of the fact it was not her made it all the worse. She shook her head. This was a dream, wasn’t it? Ever since the whole mushroom incident and the shared hallucination, she did not know what to believe. She tried not think about it or her recent dreams which Mulder seemed to have surprising insight on it. But of course, true to their style, neither one of them talked about it. Scully knew this was a dream; it had to be. She tried to will herself awake and as she found the magical hold on her broken and as consciousness rushed back, she could hear Mulder calling her name, trying to urge her to come back.

Scully awoke in a cold sweat as she wiped the back of her hand against her forehead. She blinked in the dark as the light from the streetlight outside danced as a car drove past her apartment. She sighed and looked at the red numbers staring angrily at her, reflecting 1:11, make a wish. She wanted to sleep, she needed to sleep. She turned on bedside light right at the same time her phone started to ring. Blindly she reached for it and in a single sigh answered, “Scully.”

“It’s me.”

How the hell did he know? He’d been doing that weird thing for weeks since they were almost eaten in North Carolina by the mushroom. He always seemed to know when to call if she woke up in the middle of the night or have that weird insight. “What?”

“You had a nightmare again, didn’t you.” It was a statement, not a question. “Scully?”

“I’m hanging up, Mulder.”

“You have to face it sometime, what we have between us.”

“Mulder. Stop.”

“There is nothing between me and Diana.” Scully grew cold and silent, holding her breath. “I saw your nightmare too. I know you deny…”

“Good night, Mulder.” She ended the call before he could utter another word. She tossed the cordless phone across the bed like it burned her. “No. It’s not possible.”

She got up out of bed, her nerves frazzled and her mind racing at the rational and irrational implications and possibilities. She tried to cast it out of her mind, even reasoning that the supposed shared hallucination that they shared while being ingested was nothing more of a side effect of being eaten by an unstudied organism. To soothe her fears and a weak attempt to get the searing image of Mulder and Diana out of her mind. Fucking Diana.

Scully stormed out of her bedroom just as her phone started to ring again. At the edge of her consciousness, she somehow knew it was Mulder and she could somehow feel his concern and worry for her. But that was quickly dismissed as she put on a kettle of water and pulled down her favorite coffee mug. The phone continued to ring and she believed that her will would outlast it. The phone soon died and she sighed with relief. Her sleep had been troubled and plagued and often she would have nightmares about Diana and Mulder (and where was this coming from?) Would Mulder leave her? Or would she leave Mulder? She tried to think of other possibilities but decided late-night television would be good to soothe her incessant fears.

Twenty minutes later, as she sipped her tea, there was a knock at her door and she frowned, knowing who it was already. She bit her lip and turned down the volume. The knocking grew in intensity and she slouched in her couch, already trying to hide. “Scully! Scully. I know you are up.“

She could hear him slipping the key into her lock and she tilted her head slightly, recalling she had secured the chain to her door. The door opened slightly, stopped by the chain, and she sighed and Mulder called to her again.

"Scully, open up, please. I don’t really want to cause a scene out here. Open up. I know you don’t want me here, I know you don’t want to deal with this, but we need to talk.”

She knew his determination and also could he feel he was not bluffing (God knows how) so, reluctantly, she left the cup of tea and appeared before the gap. “We don’t.”

“Yes, Scully, we do.” He emphasized every word. “Let me in.” It was not a request. “Please.”

“We’re not sharing dreams now too.”

“That wasn’t my dream. It would be a nightmare, for both of us. I was powerless to stop it as well, and I wasn’t on the receiving end,” he told her in a lowered voice. “I had to watch it the same as you.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she hissed, unhooking the door. He walked past her and she slammed the door behind her a bit more than she intended.

“Oh, come on, Scully. Why won’t you openly come out in say it?”

“Say what?” Her jealousy of Diana? Her fear of losing him? “What, Mulder?”

“That was your nightmare we both saw, Scully. As you have seen mine. It’s a two-way street, ever since the mushroom.”

She was quiet and let her mind drift over a sea of memories, buried dreams that emerged like ghost ships that she did not recognize as her own but figments…dreams of her leaving him, their work, dying of her cancer, her and Jerse (which surprised her the most because apparently, he had a very active imagination). But there were others of them, of which they were both the participants instead of bystanders but those…those were just flights of fancy. Mulder sighed in frustration and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Is the whiskey still above the sink?” She was quiet, her eyes widening in wordless surprise and shock, as Mulder quickly caught himself. “Sorry. I don’t know how I know that.”

“Are you reading my mind?”

“No. No.” He rubbed his face wearily. “Can we just talk about this, Scully?”

She nodded slightly and pointed to where she had been sitting. “I’ll get the whiskey.”

“Is it above the sink?”

“Go sit down, Mulder.”

Of course, it was above the sink. These weird inclinations of intuition supposed shared dreams and emotions. She would not openly say anything. That was not their style. Quick and to the point when it was. Painful most of the time. Everything was painful. It lingered until the band-aid was ripped off along with the scab.

“And I do notice you,” he continued, oblivious to her anger. “You think I don’t but I do.”

“Where are you getting this from, Mulder?”

He watched her from the safety of the couch and blinked in surprise. “I…didn’t you tell me once?”

“That doesn’t sound like something I would talk about,” she said, pouring two glasses, “despite the accuracy of it. Must be the profiler in you.”

“Must be,” he murmured, not entirely convinced. “But I honestly believe we need to talk. We both shared a nightmare and it showed…” He coughed. “Between us.”

“One of my worst fears, Mulder,” she stated plainly. She crossed the threshold and passed him a glass. “You know I don’t trust her, Mulder.”

“You think I could forget about you so easily? That I would dismiss you?” He sipped the bitter liquid, trying down the hurt or gain courage. “You’ve seen what she did to me.”

Scully was quiet and swirled the brown liquid and set the glass down. Of course, she had seen Mulder’s nightmares and the memories of how that bitch had broken his heart. “I have.”

“You have never done that to me, Scully.” She absently picked at the lint on his long shirt sleeve and Mulder set down his own drink down. “Look at me, please.”

There were also more than nightmares. There were nights she awoke feeling like she had not in a long time; alive and invigorated. She could still feel skin against skin and a smoldering fire that needed to be sated. The warmth of his hand taking hers caught her by surprise. She looked up into his warm hazel eyes and somehow knew he was talking about something altogether deeper. She squeezed his hand and he bent forward, tentatively testing her to see if they were real. It was better than a dream. Scully instinctively deepened it as he cupped her face and smiled.

“I know what your end game is, Mulder,” she smiled.

“Is it working?”

She nodded slightly, kissing him again, and broke away. “Mulder, I think we’ve both dreamed this enough to know what happens next.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Scully,” he laughed, pulling her back on top as he lounged back onto her couch and his hands slipped up under her flannel pajama top, as both sighed at the realistic sensation of being held by the one they both loved.


End file.
